


Please Hold

by theianitor



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Cars, Happy Ending, Horror, Scary, Uncanny Valley, being followed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theianitor/pseuds/theianitor
Summary: In the car in front of him, the man slowly raised his head from the steering wheel, still sitting hunched forward. His expression was exactly the same, his lips only just parted, eyes glassy and staring, and looking straight ahead. His skin was unblemished, still pale, and George thought it looked like a mask. Then, slowly, the man’s head turned toward him.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12
Collections: Motorsport RPF 2020 Winter Writer's Party





	Please Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! :) It's not so much 'midwinter' maybe, but it IS set in winter, and it's based on an old nightmare... scary is REALLY hard to do. Thanks Jash for setting the thing up, and thanks and yay to everyone who is always so supportive and helping with inspiration and stuff. <3

George squeezed the steering wheel tight, getting ready to leave. The car had been cold when he got in, the drafty doors and solid concrete of the parking garage below his office did nothing to keep the chill out, but now it was nicely warm. The steering wheel was actually almost hot at this point, sweaty from his hands on it. He’d turned the heating way up and indulged in sitting for a minute or so before heading out, knowing the roads would be treacherous with snow and sleet. He was already so late in setting out that there was nobody else down there.

The garage had always struck him as a little eerie. Above it towered well-lit offices, kept nice and warm with a state-of-the-art climate control system. Windows gave them all a great view of the city, and the christmas decorations made it surprisingly cozy.

Below, old, dark gray concrete made up the walls, the lighting was poor and usually there was more than one lamp on the blink. Huge gray pillars interrupted the light and made strange shadows stretch across the ground, inviting thoughts of who or what might be hiding behind them. It also had the strange acoustics that seemed to plague every parking garage ever built: footsteps were magnified while speech became muffled, and more than once George had almost jumped out of his skin at hearing someone speaking far away only to find a well-meaning colleague just behind him.

A row or so away, a car started up, then stopped again. Then it started again. The engine revved up quickly, too quickly, and then the car stalled. George looked around, but couldn’t see any people, nor any headlights from a car starting up.

The engine came to life again and stayed on this time. He heard a vehicle moving, and one row over he saw a dark car edge along, stop suddenly, and then crawl a few more inches forward.

Someone’s car was having serious trouble with the cold, he figured. It would probably be best to let them pass, rather than trying to get out ahead of them now.

The car stopped and started, edging its way forward a few feet at a time, each start and stop hard and sudden. It rounded the corner of the row with a screech of tires, apparently flooring it, turning sharply, and then slamming on the breaks.

George tried to look out again, his fingers one by one taking an even firmer grip of the wheel. That wasn’t just a car that couldn’t handle the cold, that was some very erratic driving. The car was going down his row now, again revving up and then stopping, almost making the car skip forward, the chassis rocked and now that he could see it, George saw that whoever was driving was rocking right along with it. Back and forth, back and forth with every start and stop.

Their head must be slamming right into the headrest, George thought as a particularly hard stop had the car lurch forward so hard the front bumper almost touched the floor.

Now it definitely felt safer to just stay in the car and let this person pass. For a second he thought about calling security. Maybe this person was drunk?

A close-by roar of that engine, followed by another screeching of wheels against the concrete floor made him look up. The car was just to the right of him now and still inching its way forward.

The driver was a man in a white shirt, with short, dark brown hair and a beard. His mouth was slightly open and he was staring straight ahead, his hands pale on the wheel. George had never seen him before.

As the car lurched forward yet again, the man’s head flew back and bounced off the headrest. Then he must have stepped on the brake hard, because the car stopped, throwing him forward right into the steering wheel. Even from inside his own car, George could hear the sound as the man’s face hit the hard plastic and leather. It made him wince and imagine at least a broken nose, but also, thankfully, the end to the foolish attempts at getting the car out of the garage.

The car flew forward again, and the man’s head flew back sharply.

George stared.

The man’s eyes were still open wide, his expression completely unchanged. He wasn’t bleeding and didn’t appear to have noticed that his face had just met the steering wheel. His hands were in the same positions as before, his mouth was still slightly open, and then the car stopped again. He jerked forward, bending his neck too sharply, and his face flew into the steering wheel yet again.

The car idled. Now it was in front of George’s car, blocking his path. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. The man must be on drugs or something.

In the car in front of him, the man slowly raised his head from the steering wheel, still sitting hunched forward. His expression was exactly the same, his lips only just parted, eyes glassy and staring, and looking straight at George. His skin was unblemished, still pale, and George thought it looked like a mask. Then, slowly, the head turned.

_“Please hold, we will be with you as soon as possible.”_

The voice was automated, completely devoid of emotion, just like the man’s face, and despite having heard it so clearly it would have made sense if it came from inside his own car, George knew that it was the man who had spoken.

Several long seconds passed. Then, still hunched forward, the man released the wheel with one hand and reached down to open the window.

Before he could stop to think, George scrabbled for the door handle and wrenched his own door open, slamming it into the car beside him. His own footsteps echoed hard against the floor as he ran between the cars, across the next open lane, and then ducked into the next row of cars. He heard the engine rev up again, then the screech of a stop, then another rev, and yet another stop. The car was making its way around the row he’d been in.

His phone was in the car. He had his wallet, but his phone and car keys were still in the car. And the door was still open. With his heart pounding and trying to breathe as quietly as possible, he cautiously raised his head to look around.

The silence was shattered by the roar of the engine as the car sped down the row, coming to a screaming halt right in front of him, tires complaining and the driver’s face again slamming into the wheel. His head turned slowly once more, until he was looking at George sideways with his unblinking, shiny eyes.

_“Please continue to hold.”_

Again, George ran back between the cars and then hurried up the next lane. If the car had to travel in small sprints, he’d make it to the top of the row before they were around the corner. Then he could get back to his own car and beat them out the door, call the police and maybe lose them somewhere in the city. His lungs strained now, prickly and uncomfortable in the cold, stuffy air, heavy with the fumes and smells of hundreds of cars.

George slipped on a melting spot of snow packed into ice, skidding almost into a pillar before catching himself and leaping around it. A second later there was a crunch of metal and breaking glass as the car hit the pillar on the other side. George didn’t stop, but he could see the man’s face before his eyes, still expressionless and staring, looking right at him. Then the cold, automated voice sounded behind him.

_“Please hold, we will be with you as soon as possible.”_

Running as hard as his legs would let him, George bolted past one row of cars and then down the lane behind where his own car was standing. He could hear the car behind him, again moving in short bursts backwards and forwards, trying to turn itself straight, its driver’s head bouncing back and forth.

To not give them more time, George jumped into his own car and set off as fast as he could, heading for the doors. Rather than trying to cut him off, the car kept rolling back and forth, a single headlight swinging its beam up and down in George’s rearview.

The streets beyond the garage doors were empty, and George drove fast, too fast, sliding down to the right and didn’t stop for the red lights. The streetlights above swished past, making the inside of the car flicker like an old movie. Going quickly made him feel safer, until he spotted a lone headlight coming up fast behind him. The driver had apparently mastered the gas pedal, swerving hard from side to side but very close to catching up to him already.

Turning a corner George could only wish there was nobody in the way, driving the gas pedal down into the floor as soon as he dared, sending the car flying down the street. Two more corners and he would be at one of the police stations. As he rounded the first, he saw the dark car coming around where he had just been. He would have precious few seconds to make it inside.

Skidding to a halt outside the station, George nearly fell out of the car. He scrabbled around the front towards the steps and tripped over, the snow biting at his bare hands. The other car came up right in front of his now, stopping violently and sending the driver’s face against the wheel again.

The driver turned his head, and for the first time George noticed a passenger. There was another person in the car.

And he looked exactly like the first.

Two identical pairs of dead eyes were staring at him, two mouths open exactly the same way, the same hair and beards, two completely identical heads turning as one to stare at him. The voice was magnified now.

_“Please continue to hold.”_

The driver reached for the window and it slowly came down. He reached out his arm and slapped on the outside of the door as if looking for the handle. Then the other arm came after it, reaching up towards the roof of the car.

It was too long.

It was too long, and it bent twice before a long-fingered hand, plastic and pale and with fingers stuck together slightly bent, hit the roof, trying to grab hold of something. Then another arm joined the two first, out to the side, and then another, and one long leg made its way out of the window, reaching down and finding the ground, stabilizing the man, who somehow squeezed his way out of the much too small window, flowing out onto the street and then standing up.

It was one body, but two. The limbs were too long and bent too much, but it was dressed in an impeccable white shirt and pressed pants. It was impossibly tall. The two identical heads, part of the same body but still not, wobbling as if attached to the clothes but not the body, turned to George.

He found his feet, stumbling and slipping but he refused to stop moving, almost clawing his way up on all fours, charging in through the doors with a taste of blood in his mouth, breathing hard.

“Help!” he cried. “Help, I’m being followed by a monster!”

There was nobody there. Benches and desks stood empty, there were no phones ringing, nobody speaking. George looked around. Behind the glass at the reception sat a lone police officer, looking down at some papers. He hadn’t even looked up when George barged in.

“Help me!” George yelled, running up to the glass. “There’s a monster, he’s coming in and...”

The doors creaked behind him, not banging open but almost cautiously spreading, and preceded by two over-long arms the two heads came inside and turned to look at George and the officer.

_“Please hold,”_ said the same dead, mechanical voice, as the hands grabbed at a bench, trying to tug the body in through the doors. _“We will be with you as soon as possible.”_

“HELP ME!” George screamed.

The officer slowly raised his head from the papers and looked up, with milky, unseeing eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but his mouth never stopped opening, getting longer and longer, followed by his nose and his forehead, his face looking as if it was melting off, and then, with a splash, he turned to liquid and sloshed out over the his papers, his desk, his chair, and the floor.

With a gasp, George woke up. There was a heavy stink of coffee and his hand, arm, and pants were wet. The air was stuffy and uncomfortably warm, and for one confused second he didn’t know quite where he was.

Then he remembered he was in his car. He’d been leaving work late, with a coffee to ensure he made it all the way home, and not until he’d gotten to the garage had he realized he’d left his pass upstairs. The horrible parking guard wouldn’t let him out without it. The elevator had locked behind him as it was after office hours, so he’d been-

_“Please continue to hold.”_

The voice made him startle, but the explanation was plain beside him. He’d turned his phone on speaker and placed it on the seat next to him, waiting for the security office to have time for him. His nightmare had made him squash his coffee cup and spill the contents everywhere.

At the sound of an engine starting up and stalling he looked up sharply. It was a dark blue car, but in the front seat sat a man he only recognized from the upstairs office, with his son in the passenger seat, rocking back and forth with his father’s horrible driving.

George took a deep breath, trying to calm his suddenly galloping heart.

_“Security, how can I help you?”_

George grappled to get his phone up, his hand instantly staining it with coffee.

“Hi, erhm, it’s... I’m Russell, George Russell, and...”

\- The End -

**Author's Note:**

> All in good fun, as per usual! :)   
> Thanks for the read! <3 Kudoses and comments will be cherished forever!


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